


The Way to a Man's Heart

by Gigi_Sinclair



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-03
Updated: 2016-08-03
Packaged: 2018-07-29 02:51:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7667437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gigi_Sinclair/pseuds/Gigi_Sinclair
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When the Empire crumbled, four-year-old Armitage Hux escaped to the New Republic with his mother. Many years later, Jedi padawan Ben Solo encounters them living a quiet existence on a pastoral planet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Way to a Man's Heart

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by [this gif set](http://domhnall-tonal.tumblr.com/post/147424017609/gwencocos-bill-shell-cottage-kitchen) from Harry Potter.
> 
> Now with a sequel of sorts: [The Family Tree](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8546878).

Ben smells the cottage long before he sees it. 

The warm, yeasty scent of fresh bread goes to his heart, and then to his empty, growling stomach. He thinks of an animated holovid he saw as a kid. A Wookie character had been carried along on the wafting odour of a recently baked wasaka berry pudding, his feet literally lifted off the ground. That's how Ben feels. His exhausted body is buoyed up by the delicious smell. He follows it into a valley, and sees the cottage nestled in a forest clearing. 

At home, his mother has a few paintings of rural Alderaan on the walls. This cottage reminds him of those pictures: a kitschy little house with a plume of cheerful grey smoke coming from the stone chimney. Without thinking twice, Ben walks up. The door is open, and he pokes his head inside as if he belongs there. 

The cottage kitchen is bright and sunny. Embers glow in the fireplace. Pots and pans hang on the stone walls. In the centre of the room is a table made from a thick, roughly hewn plank of wood; in place of chairs are two equally rough benches. A man stands beside the table with a mug in his hand. 

He's young, and very good-looking. His hair is reddish-orange—a colour Ben hasn't seen on a human before—long enough to touch his collar and to fall over one eye. The bread Ben smelled is in front of him, a round, seedy loaf lying on a board. Ben's mouth waters, although he's not sure whether that's due to the bread or the man. He swallows, his throat dry even as beads of sweat form on his forehead.

 _Take what you want, boy_ , the voice in his mind urges. _Take_ everything _you want._

“You just missed her,” the man says. He has an accent Ben can't remember hearing before. “She's on her way to the village. If you hurry, you can catch her.”

“I'm not looking for anyone.”

“Oh.” Slowly, subtly, the man's free hand edges toward the long, serrated knife next to the bread. “What do you want, then?” 

He's anxious, worried. Close to being frightened. Ben senses it. Normally, it would please him. It's very wrong, he knows that, but he gets an illicit thrill out of scaring people not by doing anything, but simply by being who he is: a large, strong young man with powers most can't even begin to understand. For some reason, though, he doesn't feel like that now. He doesn't want this man to be afraid of him. Ben puts up his hands, hoping to reassure him, and the man grabs the knife. 

“I'm not going to hurt you!” Ben yells, panicked. He takes a deep breath, trying to call on the sense of inner calm he's spent the last ten years cultivating. It still needs work. “I'm hungry,” he admits. Very hungry. Luke sent him on a week-long “journey of introspection” with only six thin nutrient wafers. Which was fine. Being a Jedi was about denial and self-restraint. Ben ate all six wafers on the first day. “I...” Ben looks at the bread again. His stomach roars. “I need some food. I can pay you. I mean, ah, I don't, I don't have any money, but I could...do something. For you. In return.” That sounds childish and depraved all at once. Ben winces. 

“Get me some water,” the man says, after a moment. He puts the knife back on the table. “From the well in the forest.” He points. Ben looks down to see a large, empty bucket beside him. “Fill that up, and I'll give you a meal.” 

“Thank you. Thanks.” Ben picks up the bucket, then puts it down again. “I'll just...” He takes off his rucksack. 

“Leave it here,” the man agrees. 

“I'll be right back,” Ben promises and he heads off to the forest.

The well lies a short walk from the house, surrounded by trees. A heavy metal cover lies over it. Ben flicks the cover off easily using the Force, but if the man comes here regularly, he's obviously much stronger than he looks. Ben ties the bucket to a rope hanging from a winch and drops it down. He hears it splash, far below, then winds the bucket back. 

When Ben returns to the cottage, the man has placed a hunk of buttered bread on an earthenware plate, next to a wedge of pale blue cheese. He's tidied his hair, as well, pushed it out of his face and tucked it behind his ears. Ben sets the bucket down, spilling a little onto the stone floor. 

“Thank you.” The man sets the plate on the table and stands back, as if Ben is a wild animal he's still not quite sure he should trust. Ben sits on the bench. He's not going to stuff his face like a savage beast, he tells himself, but at the first taste of bread, all control slips from his grasp.

While Ben eats like a man possessed, shovelling food into his mouth as quickly as he's physically able, the man pulls a stepladder from beneath a counter. He picks up the bucket of water and, lifting it over his head, pours it into a tub that hangs just beneath the ceiling. His arms wobble a bit. Ben knows he should do the gentlemanly, Jedi thing and offer to help, but he can't stop eating. The man manages, anyway. He empties the bucket and comes back down the stepladder. He pushes the stepladder and the empty bucket back beneath the counter, and goes to a pump over a stone sink, attached by a long, stone pipe to the tub he's just filled. 

“Do you want a drink?” The man asks, when Ben pauses to swallow. He pumps water into an earthenware mug and passes it to Ben.

“That's really...interesting.” Ben stares at the plumbing. 

“I designed it myself.” The man smiles. Ben buries his face in the mug, draining it in one shot, and returns to the bread and cheese. “You can have more,” the man says, just as Ben is considering if it would be polite to lick the crumbs from the plate, and if he cares if it's not. The man picks up the knife and saws off another slice of bread. He butters it generously and passes it to Ben, then crosses the small kitchen. He disappears through a doorway and emerges a moment later with a bowl of red fruit in his hands. 

“Bladeberries.” He sets the bowl in front of Ben. “The stems are sharp, so be careful.” Ben reaches for the berries. As promised, thorns prick his fingers, and he yanks back his hand. “Here.” The man comes around beside Ben, throwing his leg over the bench. He sits down and takes a clump of berries from the bowl, plucking them deftly from their menacing stems and dropping them on Ben's plate. 

They're delicious, sweet with a burst of juice that hits the back of Ben's tongue with an unexpected tartness. Ben eats them as fast as the man can get them off their stems. Then, he downs another slice of bread and a second piece of cheese and finally feels sated enough to say, politely, “Thank you very much.” 

The man smiles again. Wow, Ben thinks. There's no other word for it. His skin is pale and freckled and his eyelashes are long. When he blinks, something shifts in Ben's gut that makes him think it might not have been a good idea to eat so much so fast. “You're welcome. Now that you're not on the brink of starvation, do you mind telling me who you are?”

Should Ben lie? He's not on a secret mission, but Ben knows—has learned the hard way—that not everyone in the galaxy loves the Jedi. “I'm a traveller,” he says, which is mostly true. “I'm hiking to Mount Sharral. My name's Ben.” 

“May I ask, Ben, why you're travelling with no food and no money?” The man arches an eyebrow, but he sounds more amused than anything. 

“I'm supposed to be learning about, you know, self-control. Abstinence.” The man's cheek twitches at that word. Ben mentally kicks himself for choosing it. “I mean, I'm supposed to be denying myself in the hopes of learning something.” What, exactly, isn't entirely clear, but Ben knows it has something to do with Luke's fear he is susceptible to the Dark Side. It's practically all Luke ever talks about.

“Have you learned anything?” 

“That it really sucks to be hungry.” 

It's not a joke, but the man laughs. “I'm Hux,” he says, holding out a hand. Ben takes it. Hux's skin is as soft as Ben would have expected, but his grip is much firmer.

“This is your house?” 

“My mother and I live here. She's gone into the village to sell our bread.” 

“You're bakers?” 

“We make all kinds of things. I can pack you a bag, if you want, to take with you when you go.” Hux's forehead creases. “That's not cheating, is it? Will you get in trouble?”

“No one will find out.” But Ben doesn't feel like leaving right away. “Is there something else I can do? I mean, to help you?” He looks around. An orange felinx sleeps by the fire, and a few doors are set into the walls, presumably leading to other rooms. “I really owe you.” 

Hux looks away. Ben's heart sinks. He must have said something wrong, although he's not sure what. He's used to that feeling. 

“You say you're hiking to Mount Sharral?” Hux asks.

“Yes.” That's where he's going to meet Luke and the other padawans, who have been on their own “journeys of introspection.” 

“That's a good four days away. And you've been on the road for...”

“Three days already.” Three long, long days. 

“You should rest. Do you want to take a nap? You could borrow my room.” Ben's been sleeping on rocks for three nights. A nap sounds amazing. Still, he was raised with a high standard of courtesy. 

“You've done so much for me already.” Saved his life, in fact, and that's no exaggeration.

“Don't worry about it.” Hux stands up so quickly, he hits his long legs on the underside of the table. 

Ben follows him through one of the doors. The bedroom is small but well-organized. The narrow bed is neatly made, which is more than Ben could ever say of his bed at home, and the wooden shelves are lined with books—actual paper books—and little wooden models of space ships. Ben doesn't recognize the types. On the top shelf is a small holo of a young man with a moustache. 

“Who's that?” A shimmer of irrational jealousy flickers through Ben. 

“That's my dad,” Hux replies. Ben's heart resumes beating. “We don't see him.” He pauses. “Kriff, that makes me sound about eight years old.”

“That's okay,” Ben says, quickly. “I miss my dad, too, sometimes.” More often than he misses his mom, anyway. 

Hux nods at the bed, which Ben takes as permission to sit on it. The mattress is soft, but not too soft, and the knitted blanket is warm beneath his hands. 

“Ah, Ben...” As he reaches the doorway, Hux turns around. “Just out of curiosity, how old are you?”

“Eighteen.” 

Hux leaves the door open when he goes. Ben likes that, although he can't say why. 

***

Ben doesn't know how long he sleeps. He wakes up disoriented, blinking at the books and the models and the holo of the moustached man. Slowly, everything floats back into place. Hux. Ben swings his legs over the side of the bed and sits up.

He wasn't sure about bed borrowing etiquette, so he slept on top of the blankets, covered by his own cloak. He tugs it back on as he heads out of the bedroom. Hux is at a counter in the kitchen, his back to the bedroom door. The sudden desire to go up behind him as if they were lovers, to put his arms around Hux's slender waist and bury his face in that wonderful hair, washes over Ben like a flood. _Then bend him over the table_ , the voice in Ben's mind adds, raspy and harsh as always. _He won't complain. If he does, you're stronger. You don't need permission. Would your grandfather have asked_ permission?

“Hi!” Ben calls out, too loudly.

Hux glances over his shoulder. Ben's heart flips. “How do you feel?”

“Great. I feel great.” Or he had. “It smells...great in here.” 

“I made ginger biscuits.” Ben sees them on the table, a little mound of soft orange cookies. “Help yourself.” 

“Thanks.” Ben takes two. They're sweetly spicy, obviously just out of the oven. They warm his stomach as he swallows them down. 

“Have some more,” Hux urges. “You can get some blue milk from the larder, if you want.”

“The...”

Hux points to one of the doors. “Right there. Take a mug from the rack.”

Ben's never seen anything like it. Even at Luke's, they have an electric conservator in the main hall. This is a tiny room, much cooler than the rest of the house, with stone shelving that's cold to the touch. Ben picks up a bottle of blue milk, sitting between a wheel of cheese and a bowl of bladeberries. Ben fills his mug, then goes back out to where Hux stands, chopping vegetables. 

It reminds him of home, on the rare occasions when Han or Leia would make dinner rather than leaving it to a droid. He drinks deeply, savouring the refreshing taste of the milk, which he hasn't had in a long time. Hux brushes his hair off his face, and this time, Ben longs to lean in and plant a kiss on his pale cheek. _And thrust into him, over and over, the way you've always wanted to do to somebody. Possess his body, make it yours. Show him who the master is._

“Do you want to stay for dinner?” Hux asks. Ben drains the last of his milk and runs a hand over his heated face. “If you're wondering about my mother,” Hux goes on, “she sometimes stays overnight in the village. She's got a lot of friends there. She used to be a servant, years and years ago, and she never got over the thrill of freedom at being able to stay out when she wants to. Why am I telling you this?”

Ben has no idea. “I'd like to stay,” he says. He could stay forever. “If you want me to. Can I help you?” 

Hux's cheeks are pink. Ben wants to kiss him even more. If he could trust himself—or rather, trust the voice—to let him stop there, he would. “You can chop some wood for the fire. There's a stack out there.” He points at the window above the counter. That's perfect. Ben needs to get away from Hux before he ruins everything.

He could cut the wood easily using the Force. Instead, Ben pulls off his cloak and picks up the axe on the woodpile. He sets a log on the chopping block and cleaves it in two, enjoying the heavy swing of the axe and the satisfying clunk as it splits the wood. He breaks half a dozen logs that way, but he's getting far too hot. 

Ben isn't that good at reading people's thoughts. He wants to be, but it's an ability that continually escapes him. He can sense emotions, though, if he tries. As he pulls off his shirt, Ben lets his mind reach out to Hux's. Ben knows he's there, watching through the kitchen window. He sets another log on the block and swings his arms. He hears nothing but static. He tries again, splitting another log, and then another. As he reaches into the woodpile yet again, the static dissolves, and Ben is hit with such a powerful, deep sense of wanting, he drops the log on his foot. 

“Kriff!” He jumps up. The feeling evaporates, disappearing in an instant as Hux comes rushing out of the house.

“Are you all right?” 

“I think I broke my fucking foot.” 

“Sit down.” Ben collapses onto a chair next to the woodpile. Hux kneels in front of him, pushing his hair back, and gently pulls off Ben's boot.

Immediately, Ben wishes he'd brought more than one pair of socks on the “journey of introspection.” Hux doesn't pass out, though. He doesn't even make a face. Instead, he rolls off the rank sock and rubs Ben's foot with his soft, strong hands. Ben bites his lip to keep from moaning, in agony and in something else. “I don't think it's broken,” Hux determines. He squeezes Ben's ankle. The sensation slithers up Ben's spine. “Just bruised. You'll have to keep off it for a few hours.” Hux looks up. His eyes meet Ben's, and for the first time, Ben notices what a remarkable colour they are. Not blue, exactly, or green, but something partway between which, in that instant, becomes Ben's favourite colour. “I'll look after you,” Hux adds, his voice a little deeper than before. 

Look after me forever, Ben thinks. Marry me and I'll eat your bread and cookies all day long and get really fat and never leave you, even though I don't even know your last name. “Okay,” he says. He doesn't take his eyes off Hux's. He can't. 

“Okay,” Hux repeats. Ben wants so badly to tell him he's not alone, that the feeling Ben got from him might as well have been Ben's own, because Ben wants Hux just as badly. He doesn't say anything. He catches his shirt when Hux throws it to him, and watches Hux go back inside.

They eat outside on wooden chairs, balancing their plates on their knees. Hux has made something out of fish, rice and root vegetables, smothered in a heavy cream sauce. It's the richest thing Ben's had since childhood, and Luke would have a heart attack just looking at it. Ben has three helpings, then more ginger biscuits. “You're an incredible cook,” he says, his mouth full. “I mean, unbelievable. You could work in a really good restaurant on Coruscant or somewhere.” 

“Maybe.” Hux doesn't sound convinced.

“It's true!” Ben grins at him around his cookies. “You never thought about getting out of here?” Hux shrugs. “Is this where you were born?” Ben can't think of any other reason why Hux would want to stay. This place is pretty, but it's got to be painfully boring. Even Ben can see that, and he lives at a Jedi training school, where he spends most of his time trying to commune with branches and stones. 

“No,” Hux says. He hesitates, then goes on. “My mother and I had to run away when I was four.”

Ben swallows his cookie. “From your dad?” 

“Not exactly.” 

Ben waits, but Hux doesn't say more. “So, how long have you been here?”

“Since I was ten. Maybe you're right, maybe I should be a bit more adventurous.” Hux's forehead furrows. “But we moved around so much before we came here, I'm just happy to have somewhere to call home.” 

“I get it.” Ben does. It sounds great. Thanks to Leia's job, they never stayed in any house for long, and Luke's isn't home. It's just a place where he constantly feels like he doesn't measure up.

Hux looks away suddenly. “It's getting dark,” he says. He's right. The twin suns are beginning to set over the horizon. “Maybe you should spend the night. You can head out first thing in the morning.” 

_See?_ The voice laughs. _He's asking for it. You're weak, boy. Weak and pathetic._

Ben grits his teeth. “If that's okay with you.” 

“Of course.” Hux doesn't meet Ben's eyes. “You can have my bed. I'll sleep in my mother's. She won't be back until morning.” 

Ben feels like he's going to be sick. It really wasn't a good idea to eat all that food after days of nothing. He puts his plate down beside him, so he's not tempted to keep going. “I...” He begins, then stops. He has no idea how to continue that sentence. Hux looks at him. His cheeks are even redder than before, verging on scarlet. 

“We could sleep in the same bed,” Ben blurts out, so quickly he worries Hux didn't understand him. He's not sure he'll be able to say the words again without spontaneously combusting. 

Hux doesn't ask him to repeat himself. He still doesn't look at him, either, instead fixing his gaze on the fish bones on his plate. “I've...I've never done anything like that. Isn't that pathetic? I'm twenty-two.” _Good news, boy. A virgin might not see how incompetent you are. But if you were to take control, of course, act like a man for once in your miserable life..._

“I am, too. A...a...” Ben suddenly can't say the word. “I'm inexperienced. Very.” 

“Really?” Hux sounds halfway between confused and skeptical. He raises an eyebrow, like he thinks Ben might be lying. He wouldn't. If they're going to do this, Ben has to be honest. 

“I'm a Jedi. Training to be, anyway.” 

“I know. Your...” Hux points to his own hair. Of course. The braid, which may as well be a brand on Ben's face. 

“Right.”

Hux licks his lips, then stands hurriedly, like he suddenly has somewhere to be. He puts his plate beside his chair, and comes over to Ben. “If...” He hesitates. “If you haven't broken your vows before, I don't want you to do something you'll regret.” 

“I'd never regret anything with you.” Except maybe those words. They sound like a cheap line, like the sort of thing that would come right after, “Are you an angel of Iego?” in a holofilm. The sort of thing that would make Ben roll his eyes into the next galaxy if he heard someone else say it, but he really means it.

Hux wets his lips again, and if he keeps doing that, Ben is pretty sure this is all going to be over before it starts. He drops down onto Ben's lap, his neat, small ass right over Ben's dick, and Ben tries desperately to conjure up any erection-killing thought he can. He gets as far as “his mother standing in front of her closet in her underwear” when Hux leans down to kiss him. 

It's hard, but also soft, and really wet. Maybe too wet, but Ben doesn't care. Hux presses his tongue against Ben's lips and Ben, who remembers seeing something like this in one of those films, opens his mouth. It's a weird sensation. Ben can't say he's totally sold. Hux is into it, his eyes closed and little moans coming from his throat. That's enough for Ben. He presses back, sliding their tongues together. His hands go to Hux's shoulders and then, it's not enough. He wants to be closer, to hold Hux tighter, to take more, more, more. His heart hammers in his chest, like it's trying to break free, and he grips Hux hard, squeezing him, thrilling in the sensation of his fragile arms beneath Ben's big, powerful hands. Ben could break him so easily. He wouldn't even have to use the Force. He could, though, if he wanted to make the destruction complete, to really prove his power. Hux's moans get louder, then become grunts. He tries to pull back, but Ben keeps him firmly in place. Ben bites, a little, nipping Hux's lips with his teeth as his grip tightens further. 

“Ben, stop!” Hux shoves him away, both hands on Ben's chest, and stands up. His lips are puffy, shining with spit. _Take him now, boy. You know you're going to do it. Stop procrastinating._

“I'm sorry!” Tears spring to Ben's eyes. He wipes them on the back of his hand and hopes Hux didn't notice. “I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you, I really didn't.” 

Hux reaches out. He strokes Ben's hair, his thumb against Ben's cheek, and Ben knows he doesn't deserve him. If there was ever any doubt. “I'm not hurt. It was just a little rough for me. Let's try again.” He moves to sit back down. Ben stands up first. 

“I'm sorry.” Ben squares his shoulders. He'll be a _man_ all right. “We can't.” 

Hux's face falls. Immediately, Ben wants to backtrack, to tell him they can do whatever Hux wants, that Ben worships him. That Ben loves him, even though that makes no fucking sense, but at the same time, it really does. He bites his tongue. 

“All right,” Hux says. He pushes his hair back behind his ears. He blinks rapidly, but the night has come in fast, and it's too dark to see if he's got tears in his eyes, too. Ben doesn't want to know. “Let's go inside.” Hux takes his plate. Ben does the same, hobbling on his sore foot. He doesn't follow too closely. He wants to give Hux space. 

In the cottage, Hux strikes a match and holds it to a lamp. The lamp sputters to life, and Hux turns a dial on the side to regulate the flame. “You know where my room is,” Hux says, briskly. “We'd better get to sleep. I'll see you in the morning.” Before Ben can say anything else, Hux disappears behind another door. It's just as well. Ben doesn't know what else to say.

Ben closes Hux's bedroom door, then takes off his boots. He hesitates for a moment, but Hux gave him permission to sleep in the bed, so he folds back the covers. He's not going to sleep. He knows that perfectly well. Still, he makes a pretense, closing his eyes like he has any hope of dropping off. Moments later, there's a knock on the door. 

“Come in,” Ben says, when he realizes Hux is waiting for a reply. “It's your room,” he adds, when Hux appears, the lamp in his hand. 

“I don't want to bother you. I forgot my pyjamas are in here.” Hux sets the lamp on a shelf and bends down to open a drawer beneath the bed. Ben doesn't look at him. Hux rustles around in the drawer, then stands up. Empty-handed, Ben notices, but he doesn't ask. Maybe Hux missed laundry day. It happens all the time to Ben. 

“When I was five years old,” Hux says, “I saw my mother shoot a man dead. A Yinchorri. He was trying to kidnap me, to sell as a slave. She blew his brains all over the floor of a spaceport 'fresher.” Ben doesn't know what to say to that. Hux continues. “When I was nine, she caught a Twi'lek woman trying to steal from us. They fought, and my mother had to stab her to save herself.” He hesitates, but not long enough for Ben to formulate any kind of reply. “When I was sixteen, I was here by myself when a man came looking for help. He'd been lost in the woods for days, he said, and he badly needed food and drink. I turned my back on him, to get him some water, and he came up behind me and put a knife to my stomach.” 

Hux touches his stomach, on the right side just below his ribcage. It's a vague motion, almost reflexive. Ben is instantly ready to track down and kill this man, wherever he might be now. “He said if I didn't do what he wanted, he'd kill me. Unfortunately for him, I'd butchered a charniche that day.” He glances at Ben, briefly. “A local animal. Porcine. I took the cleaver from the sink and sliced his skull in half. You wouldn't believe the amount of blood I had to clean up. There's still a stain on the kitchen floor, by the sink, if you look hard.” Ben blinks, a slightly unsettling feeling of pride rising within him. “I'm telling you all this because I want you to know I've seen a lot of shit in my life. And I've met a lot of people who want to hurt me. Those are just a few examples. You aren't like those people.” 

Ben wishes he could say he's not. But he's not strong enough to pretend, not anymore. “I struggle with the Dark Side,” he says. The words feel visible, practically glowing in the dim light. Ben clears his throat. _Go ahead, boy._ The voice in his head laughs. _He'll just think you're mad, like all the rest of them do. They're right. That's what you are. A mad, weak, pathetic boy._ Ben clenches his hands at his sides. “I have urges. Bad ones. There's a voice in my head. No one else knows that. I've never told anyone.” Not Leia, not Han, not even Luke. “It tells me what to do. Sometimes, I listen.” _And you know why that is. I'm the only one who can help you. The rest of them aren't like us, they don't have our power. They don't understand. Who is this? Some fey baker? What does he have to offer someone like you, the grandson of Darth Vader himself? Don't be stupid._

“What's it telling you about me?”

He has to be honest. He owes Hux that much. “That I should show my strength by taking you.” 

Hux doesn't flinch. “But you don't want to do that?”

“Not at all! Never.” 

The lamp flickers, casting shadows on Hux's beautiful face. “Look, I know it sounds stupid. I know nothing about the Force, and there's no reason in the galaxy for me to trust you. But I do. No matter what you might have done before, you won't hurt me. I know that.” He sits on the bed, beside Ben. “And I really don't want to be a virgin any more. Do you?” 

Ben bursts into tears. Not dignified, silent crying, but loud, wailing sobs, like an infant. Hux gathers him into a hug, petting Ben's hair until Ben throws his arms around Hux's narrow waist and kisses him the way he seems to like, tongues pressing urgently together and salty tears flowing into their open mouths. 

When they pause for breath, Hux pulls back and undresses in a rush, like he's afraid he might lose his nerve if they delay. Naked, his body is even slimmer than it appeared clothed. Although he is a few years older than Ben, his figure is far more boyish: narrow shoulders, narrow waist, a slight roundness to his belly. There's a scar there, in the place where Hux touched earlier. It's a faint pink line marring his snow-white skin. Ben feels ill at the sight of it, but it also centres him, renews his dedication. He's not going to be like that man, dead with Hux's meat cleaver in his brain. He's going to be strong. 

Red hair grows in Hux's groin and down his legs. His long, slender pink cock is soft but twitching, as if it's considering joining in. He's circumcised, which gives Ben pause for a moment, but only a moment. Ben stares, expecting the voice to break in with some sardonic commentary. It's silent. Instead, it's Hux who speaks. “Do you...ah, do you want to...” He makes an incomprehensible gesture. Ben takes it as a signal to remove his own clothes.

“Right. Of course. Sorry.” 

Ben has never suffered anxiety about his body. He knows it's amazing. His face might be ugly, but his muscled chest, his flat stomach, his thick legs, all that is worthy of admiration. Hux seems to agree. He stares for such a long moment that Ben grins, only to falter when Hux says, “Is that...normal?” His eyes rest on Ben's cock. It's been hard since they were kissing, not even discouraged by the tears. Now, it's full almost to bursting, resting against Ben's stomach. If Hux keeps gaping at it, Ben's not sure it'll last long enough to do anything. 

“Normal?” 

“The size. I might as well be honest. I've never seen another one in person before. Not that I can remember.” 

“Never?” Ben immediately regrets the surprise in his tone. Hux crosses his arms over his chest and scowls. “Right. That's fine. It's nothing to be ashamed of.” It makes sense, Ben supposes, although he'd never thought about it before. His experience has been quite different. Han was naked around the house as often as Leia would let him, and at Luke's, all padawans regardless of gender share basic communal toilets and washing facilities. Modesty is not a priority. “It is a little above average, for a human,” he adds. 

“Okay.” Hux sounds unconvinced, but he uncrosses his arms. “What do you want to do?”

“Anything you want. Just name it.” 

Hux runs a hand through his hair, disarranging it. “I don't want anything inside me.” He's blushing again, a wave of pink descending from his face to his chest. Ben can't take his eyes off it. “I mean, not...not yet. But I do want to...touch.” 

Ben can't say anything. He stands, frozen in place, as Hux closes in the space between them. He has freckles on the back of his hands, Ben notices. He didn't see those before. 

Hux's touch is gentle. Carefully, he wraps his long fingers around Ben's cock. His thumb circles the tip, and he pushes back Ben's foreskin. A groan escapes, although Ben can't tell if it comes from him or from Hux. “This is different,” Hux says, thoughtful. “Why was it not removed when you were a baby?”

The question sounds so scientific, so clinical, Ben chokes out a laugh, even as his eyes roll back. “Why would it be?” 

“Hygiene. Aesthetics. But I do like the look of this.” He swallows visibly. “Can I...kiss it?”

Abso-fucking-lutely, would have been the answer, if a truly astounding orgasm hadn't chosen that moment to run over Ben like a star cruiser. 

If Hux is surprised at the copious volume of come, he doesn't show it. Of course, he must jerk off, Ben thinks, collapsing onto the bed. The mental image of Hux lying on this bed touching himself threatens to get Ben hard again already. Hux wipes his hands on something, Ben can't see what, and lies beside him. The bed is narrow, forcing them onto their sides, facing one another. Hux's cock, fully hard now and wet, presses into Ben's groin.

Ben slides a hand around, skimming Hux's thigh with his fingertips. Hux shivers, a full body shudder that Ben feels from his shoulders all the way down to his feet. Ben moans again and kisses everywhere he can reach. Hux's mouth, his cheek, his chin. He buries his face in Hux's neck, immersing himself in the smell and the taste and the feel of Hux while Hux grasps Ben's hair and clings to him.

“Fuck, Ben,” Hux gasps, as Ben sucks a mark onto his collarbone. 

Ben only has one answer for that. “Okay.” 

“What?” Hux grips his hair and pulls Ben's head back, and that does it. Ben is once again as hard as Durasteel.

“Do it.” 

“That's...” Hux sits up, nearly pushing Ben from the bed. “That's a little advanced, don't you think? We're just beginners.” 

“We have to start somewhere.” Ben gives a carefree shrug. It's a little dishonest. He's spent the last few years being alternately terrified of and dying to get a cock in his ass. If Hux is irrationally sure Ben won't hurt him, however, Ben feels the same about Hux. And it seems less likely he'll damage Hux this way, too. “Fuck me.” The way Hux's eyes widen when he hears it more than make up for any lingering doubts. 

“Are you sure? It doesn't seem fair that I...”

“Hux.” 

“All right.” Hux leans over the side of the bed, leaving his delectable ass on show. Ben gives it a little smack. He can't help himself. 

Hux yelps and sits up, a bottle in hand. “I guess...I mean, maybe you should...” He runs his hand through his hair again, looking so lost that Ben loves him more than ever. 

“I'll lie on my stomach,” Ben suggests. 

“Right. Okay. That sounds right.” 

He shifts around, and Ben feels Hux's weight settle on top of him. He braces himself for the wet, cold lubricant. Instead, Hux's hands land on Ben's back, massaging muscles sore from three days in the forest. He's not gentle, but he works efficiently, digging in like a man who's used to kneading bread all day. “That's...” Ben murmurs. At once, Hux stops. 

“Too much?”

“No. It's really good.” The massage starts again. Hux moves down gradually, rubbing Ben's lower back. When he reaches Ben's ass, he stops. Before Ben can mutter any encouragement, Hux bends and places an open-mouthed kiss to one cheek. 

Ben jolts off the bed. “Fuck, Hux!” 

“It's okay,” Hux soothes. “I...sometimes, we can get the holonet. I've watched...stuff.” 

“Oh, yeah?” Much as Ben would love to find out exactly what he's watched, he has to warn him. “I've been on the road for three days, though.”

“So?”

Ben feels himself blushing. Although it would be fair play, given how red Hux is, he's glad his face is hidden in the pillows. “So, it might not be.... all that great.” 

Hux ignores him. He kisses the other cheek sweetly, then, after a hesitation, nips it with his teeth. Ben's heartrate skyrockets. A tentative finger slides between his cheeks. Soft hands gently pull him apart, but before Ben can feel uncomfortably exposed, a tiny, even more tentative lick chases all thoughts of embarrassment from his mind.

Ben has never felt anything even remotely like it. This, he knows in an instant, is why sex is forbidden to the Jedi. One taste of this, and none of them would ever want to do anything else. He can't imagine how anyone, anywhere functions. Virgins, Ben thinks, even as his brains turn to jelly. They must all be virgins. That, or Ben just had the extreme good fortune of finding the best lover in the galaxy on his very first try. 

Praise spews forth from Ben's mouth. He doesn't know exactly what he's saying, but he doesn't care. Tears of pure ecstasy roll down his cheeks. In no time, he's coming again, pulsing a puddle onto Hux's bedsheets while Hux licks unfathomably deep inside him. When he glances over his shoulder, Hux's face is the colour of bladeberries, and his eyes are like saucers. “Do it,” Ben urges. “Do it now. Fuck me.” 

“Yes,” Hux says, as if hypnotized. If Ben was in any fit state, he might genuinely worry about that, but his head is spinning too fast to think anything but, yes, yes, Hux. 

The lube is cold, but Ben barely registers the sensation. Diligently, Hux starts with one finger, then two, refusing to move faster even as Ben begs. When, at last, Hux's cock slides in, Ben sobs with relief and instantly comes again. It's just a thin dribble this time, but it feels just as meaningful—more so, even—than the other times.

Hux doesn't last long. A few short thrusts and he grunts, a small, breathy sound, and freezes. Seconds later, Ben feels a warm wetness deep inside him. It's a strange sensation, not altogether pleasant, but when Hux pulls out with a sigh and a squelch, Ben forgets about any discomfort and drags Hux against him. 

“Marry me,” he says, into Hux's hair. 

Hux laughs. “You don't mean that.” 

“I do.” It's true. Ben didn't think about the words, they just came out, but he wouldn't take them back if he could. “Please. We met for a reason.” Maybe they were brought together by the Force. Ben doesn't see how, but he doesn't care. They're here, and Ben is never going to let Hux go. 

“But you're...” 

“There are a million reasons it's a stupid idea.” Although the voice in Ben's head has nothing to say. It's been stunned into silence, maybe. The thought makes Ben smile, but he knows it will come back. It always does. He's not going to let that ruin this moment. “But we should still do it.” 

“Okay.” 

Suddenly, Ben can't breathe. “What?” He sits up, so he can see Hux's face. Sweat plasters strands of hair to his forehead, and his chest is going up and down quickly, as if he can't catch his breath either.

“Okay. Yes.” 

“Really?”

Hux nods. Ben yanks him closer still, pulling him as near as he possibly can. Hux's arms go around him. “I'll take care of you,” Ben whispers, against Hux's skin. It feels like a sacred vow.

Hux pulls back, just enough to look Ben in the eye. “We'll take care of each other,” he says, and that feels like paradise. 

When they can move, Hux rolls off the bed and disappears. Ben ignores Hux's father, glowering from the holo, and goes over to examine the carved wooden ships. They're small but beautifully detailled, clearly made by a hand that knows what its doing, artistically and from a scientific standpoint. He picks one up, carefully. It looks even smaller in Ben's massive hand. 

“Here we go,” Hux says when he returns, rolling in a little wheeled cart. “Room service.” There's a tray on top of the cart, with two sandwiches and a big earthenware jug. If he hadn't been eager to marry Hux before, that would have sealed the deal. Below is a bigger tub of water and two squares of cloth. “In case you want to wash.” 

Ben puts the model back. With a wave, he warms up the water in the tub and reaches in, cleaning off his hands and face and the rivulets of dried come that cake his back, his ass and his legs. Hux stares at him. 

“What?” Self-consciousness creeps in. The sex blew Ben's mind, but what if Hux had been unimpressed?

“I don't know much about the Force,” Hux says. “It's...a little overwhelming to see.” But he dips a cloth in the warmed-up water and washes himself, too. 

“It's not as scary as people think. Not really.” Except, it is, in a way. Ben doesn't want to think about that now. Instead, he points at the model ships. “Did you make those?” 

“Yes. I designed them, too.” Hux sounds proud, and Ben is pleased he brought up a subject Hux wants to talk about, and dodged one he himself doesn't. “That's what I've always wanted to do.”

“Make ships?” 

“Ships, starbases, houses. Anything. I love to create stuff.” 

“So why aren't you doing that?”

“I don't have the education,” Hux says, like it's obvious. “I told you, we bounced the around the galaxy until I was ten, and then I left school at seventeen to help out here. I'm lucky I can read.” 

“Well then, once we're married, you'll just have to go back. Get a...degree, or whatever it is you need, so you can do what you want.” 

Hux seems about to laugh. Instead, he reaches out and touches Ben's cheek. “And what will you be doing during this time?” 

Ben shrugs. “I'll find a job.” 

“Doing what?” 

“I don't know. We'll figure it out, right?” They had to. “I just want to be with you.”

“You're very sweet, Ben. Naive, but very sweet.” Normally, Ben would bristle at the condescension, but this isn't a normal night. He wolfs down his sandwich and pushes Hux back onto the bed. 

“Wait!” But Hux is laughing for real now, even as his half-eaten sandwich is knocked from his hands. 

“I still owe you.” Ben crawls down Hux's naked body, exploring acres of soft skin. He places a kiss on Hux's throat, then on one nipple, then lower, sucking and nibbling at Hux's delectably rounded belly. He lingers on the scar, lapping at it as if he might erase it with his tongue. 

“Owe me?” Hux runs his hands through Ben's hair, stroking it. 

“I've come three times tonight,” Ben explains. “You need to catch up.” 

“If you insist,” Hux squeaks, and Ben slides lower still.

This act has also featured regularly in Ben's late night fantasies, for several years now. He's longed to do it almost as much as he's longed to feel it done to him. As soon as Ben gets his mouth around Hux's cock, however, he knows he had it the wrong way around. He wants to do it—and to keep on doing it—more than anything. 

Hux brings up his knees, surrounding and enclosing Ben. Hux's cock is so hot, and it feels so good, so right, as if Ben's mouth was created for this very specific purpose. The taste of him, too, is so much better than Ben had expected. He's delicious, leaking precome onto Ben's lips and his tongue as he writhes on the bed like a man losing his mind. Ignoring his own hardness, Ben brings Hux in as far as he can, until the head of his cock hits the back of Ben's throat and Ben gags. He eases off a little, sliding up and down the shaft. When Hux says, “Ben!”, alarmed, Ben pulls off at once. 

“What is it? Are you okay?” 

Hux comes directly into his eye. “Oh, fuck! I'm sorry.” 

“It's fine.” 

“But I...”

“Really.” As far as Ben's concerned, Hux can come on any part of his body he likes, as often as he wishes. Ben wipes his face with the washcloth, carefully unsticking his eyelashes, and moves up to lie beside Hux. When Ben kisses him, Hux groans and grips Ben's shoulders, and Ben assumes that he's caught the taste of himself on Ben's mouth. It sends a renewed ache to Ben's cock, which presses plaintively against Hux's thigh until Hux reaches down and strokes him, softly and then harder, kissing Ben as he comes between them. 

Hux falls asleep, his head resting on Ben's shoulder and his pale arm over Ben's waist, looking even paler by the light of the newly risen moons. Ben stays awake. The felinx wanders in, its eyes big in the weak light. It looks up, considering, then leaps onto the bed, curling itself around Ben's feet. 

The voice in Ben's head is still quiet, but Ben knows better than to think it's over for good. He has to tell Luke. There's no other choice. He needs to be rid of it, permanently. Ben needs to be sure he's the man Hux thinks he is before he can embark on a life with him. 

Luke's not going to be happy. More than anything, he'll be upset that Ben is abandoning the Jedi path for a man he's just met. He can just imagine the frenzied messages that are going to pass between Luke and Leia, the family meetings Ben will have to attend and the attempts to “talk sense” into him he'll have to endure. It doesn't matter. He'd walk barefoot over broken transparisteel for Hux. He can sit through a few lectures. 

Ben feels like he lies there for hours, his nose buried in Hux's hair. He must sleep, though, because he starts awake when he hears someone moving in the kitchen. 

He's not sure what time it is. Early still. The pink light of dawn is just beginning to filter through the window. He wonders whether he should slip out and see what's happening, but before he can move, Hux shifts against him and murmurs, “My mother's home.”

“Oh.” Ben whispers, a little disappointed. He'd hoped to have the morning with Hux, or at least as much of it as he could reasonably spend, lingering over breakfast and maybe another round of sex. Or two. Ben's already up for it, his insatiable cock twitching hopefully as Hux sleepily draws a hand over his chest. “Is she going to be upset?” 

“About you being here? No.” Hux presses a kiss to the nearest patch of skin, on the side of Ben's throat. “About us being engaged? Maybe. But she always told me, 'when you know, you know.'” He props himself up on his arm. His hair falls over his face like a curtain, and Ben reaches up to tuck it behind his ear. “I know,” Hux adds. He leans down to kiss Ben. It's more restrained than before, less sloppy and more careful. Ben's cock swings instantly from mildly interested to entranced. He reaches up, pulling Hux on top of him, and uses the Force to silently slide the bedroom door shut. 

When Ben wakes up for the second time, bright sunlight is streaming into the room. Hux is gone, but Ben can hear him in the kitchen, talking and laughing with someone who replies in a light, feminine voice. 

He should go meet her. Stride out confidently, introduce himself to Hux's mother, shake her hand. Show her that her son is marrying a real man. Ben knows that. He still wants to hide under the covers until Hux comes back. 

Nature overrules him. The pressure on Ben's bladder grows until he has no choice but to leave the room, ignoring the lingering ache in his sore foot. 

“Good morning,” Hux says, as Ben emerges. He and a woman, presumably his mother, are sitting on either side of the table, a plate of sweet-smelling pastries between them. 

“Hi.” Ben swallows. The sight and smell of the food make his stomach rumble again, as if he hadn't spent the previous day stuffing himself. There's a smudge of sugar in the corner of Hux's mouth. Hux's tongue snakes out to lick it off, and Ben is immediately glad he's too distracted for his cock to take interest. “I'll be right back,” he says, and crosses the room to the front door. 

Hux's system of pumps and pipes is also installed in the outdoor 'fresher. Ben stands there for much longer than is necessary, washing his face, brushing his teeth, and looking at himself in the cracked mirror over the sink. He runs his fingers through his hair, trying to put it into some kind of order, then gives up. 

When he can't put it off any longer, Ben returns to the house. Hux's mother smiles again, her expression warm and welcoming. Tentatively, Ben reaches out, seeking her mind, to see what she's really feeling. Remarkably quickly, he's filled with a sense of deep peacefulness and calm. She feels the opposite to Ben's own mother, who overwhelmed him with frenetic nervous energy until he was forced to block her out. 

“Please,” Hux's mother says. “Sit.” Her accent is similar to Hux's, but stronger. Ben slides onto the bench beside Hux. Hux leans over and kisses him on the lips. Ben glances at his mother, to see her reaction, but she has none. “You must be Ben. I'm Kattia Viigand.” 

She looks a lot like Hux. Tall, pretty, her long red hair streaked with grey and done up in uneven bun. Her clothes are similar to his, as well: a plain brown tunic and light brown leggings. She wears a necklace, a small blue rock in a flower made from some twisted, silver metal. Despite her prettiness and her peacefulness, however, there's a sharp edge to Kattia's expression. Ben can easily believe her to be the same person who shot a would-be kidnapper, and who stabbed a thief in self-defence.“I hear congratulations are in order.” 

“Yes. Um. Yes, that's right.” Ben glances at Hux. “Pleased to meet you, Ms. Viigand.”

“Kattia, please.” 

Hux slides the plate of pastries over to Ben. He remembers his manners and takes the closest one. “Thank you.” 

“You're both very young.” Leia would make that sound like a criticism. From this woman, it just sounds like a fact. “But I'm in no position to lecture you about that. I was only twenty when I had Misha.” 

“Misha?” Ben takes a bite of the pastry. It's delicious, of course, sweet but not cloying, filled with bladeberries. 

Kattia laughs. It's a pleasant sound, almost musical. “I'm sorry. Do you call him Armitage?” 

Ben's missing something. He turns to Hux. “I thought it was Hux.” 

“That's my last name. But,” he continues, glancing at his mother, “I like it.” 

Kattia catches Ben's eye, raising her eyebrows like the two of them share an inside joke. She refills her mug from a pot of caf on the table, then offers the pot to Ben. “Where are you from, Ben?” 

“I told you,” Hux breaks in, before Ben can speak. “He was training to be a Jedi.” 

“Who are your family?” 

Ben swallows. “My father, ah, my father is Corellian. A pilot. He taught me how to fly,” he adds, so Kattia will know he has some regular, non-Force dependent skills. 

“How lovely.” Again, she sounds and feels sincere. Encouraged, Ben goes on. “And my mother is from Alderaan. Well, her birth mother was Nabooian, but she grew up with her adoptive parents, on Alderaan.” 

“Poor woman.” Kattia's eyes, big like Hux's, turn sad. “Does she cook?” It's such an unexpected question, Ben blinks. “I only ask because it's the tradition of our people for the mothers of the bridal couple to prepare the wedding feast. I don't mind doing it myself, but I would much rather your mother be involved as well. Only if she wants to, of course.”

“Her idea of cooking is warming up a frozen squallburger.” It's true, but it sounds a little disloyal. Ben doesn't want to seem disloyal, not in front of Kattia and certainly not in front of Hux, so he adds, “She's very busy. She's been leading the Resistance since before I was born.” 

“The Resistance?” Hux turns to stare, as if, Ben thinks, he'd said his mother runs a brothel on Nal Hutta. “Your mother...” Hux starts, then stops. “What's your mother's name?” His tone is so sharp, Ben's not sure he wants to admit it. He glances at Kattia, who nods encouragingly. 

“Leia Organa.”

Hux closes his eyes. “Your mother,” he snaps, “is _Princess Leia_?” 

Ben swallows. “She prefers General Organa, actually. Well, she prefers just Leia, but if you want to be formal...” 

“I thought you were like me.” Ben doesn't know what he means. “We can't do this.” Hux gets up. “I'm sorry.” Ben watches, a half-eaten pastry in his hand, as Hux walks out of the house. He doesn't even stop to put on shoes. 

_You see, boy?_ The voice in Ben's head is back, cackling gleefully. _How long did that last? A few hours? Wasn't I right? I'm the only one who's loyal to you, the only one who cares about you. No one else ever will._

A hand lands on Ben's arm. He jumps. Kattia sighs, and her energy changes subtly, an edge of sadness encroaching on the calm. She squeezes Ben's arm, then releases him. “Misha's father comes from a very noble family. Things didn't quite work out between he and I.” 

“Oh.” Ben doesn't see what that has to do with him. He stands up. “I should go after him. Right?” 

“I would give him a moment. He'll come back.” Kattia smiles. “He's not wearing any shoes.” 

Ben sits back down. He feels queasy. Although he's never liked it before, he pours himself a cup of caf. It's bitter and too hot, scalding his tongue. He sets the cup back down. 

“Misha,” Kattia says again, and Ben really wishes she would stop calling him that, “is very special.” Ben looks toward the door, to see if Hux is back yet. He's not. “I know every mother says that, but he really is. He has the potential to do so much. He's brilliant.” 

“I know.” Ben does. It's not just the plumbing or the models or meat cleaver or even the cooking. Hux is different to anyone Ben's met before. Extraordinary. 

“He's also very sensitive. That's special, too.” She sighs. “I could have left him in former Empire with his father. They would have encouraged his intelligence more than I can, but they would have killed his spirit. I couldn't let that happen.” The former Empire. Is that the explanation? Is Hux worried Ben will judge him for his origins? “Misha needs someone who will take care of both sides of him. His brains and his heart.” 

The front door creaks open. Ben whips around, but Hux avoids his gaze. “I'm going for a walk,” he says, reaching for his shoes.

“Misha, come here. Sit down.”

“No, I...”

Kattia gets up. “I'll think I'll go gather some mushrooms. I would like to make a quiche for lunch. Will you be staying, Ben?” 

“I..” Ben remembers, belatedly, that he is supposed to be on his way to Mount Sharral to meet up with Luke and the other padawans. Hux doesn't say anything. 

“I'll get enough, just in case.” Kattia takes a basket from a shelf above the sink. She touches Hux as she passes, a light brush of her hand against his shoulder. She shuts the door after her. 

Hux looks like he wants to run away. It's that, more than anything else, that breaks the dam Ben's been trying so hard to hold. The tears flow. Hux's face falls, his mouth turning down like a child's drawing of sadness, but he doesn't move any closer. “I'm sorry,” he says. “I think we got a little carried away last night. It's my fault. I apologize.” 

Ben has to say something. Anything. “I love you,” are the first words that spring to mind, so he says that, wiping his eyes. “We don't have to get married, or whatever. That's okay. But I don't want to just leave and, like, never see you again.” The thought of it physically hurts. Ben's stomach cramps at the idea. He presses his hand against it, trying to quell the pain. 

“Ben!” Kattia reappears almost immediately. “There's a gentleman here to see you. He was just coming up the path.” 

Ben knows who it is. He should have felt him a long time ago. He would have, he's sure, if he hadn't been so preoccupied with other things. Luke comes into the cottage, nodding politely to Kattia. He looks between Ben and Hux, a carefully neutral expression on his face. “I sensed an upheaval in you.” He turns to Ben. “You need my help?” It's phrased as a question, but it's not one. 

“Misha, get a basket,” Kattia says. “Come with me.” Hux hesitates. “Misha!” 

They go, and Ben and Luke stand in silence. Ben can feel tears on his face, still, but he's not going to wipe them away. That would just draw attention to them. 

“Ben.” Luke says, finally. It's gentle and kind, the way Ben remembers Luke speaking to him in the distant past, when Ben was very young.

The voice is right about one thing: Ben is weak. That's all it takes for him to break. “I have to talk to you,” he says. The words sound too simple and overdramatic all at once. 

“I'm here to listen, Ben.” 

He does. Luke listens while Ben pours out the whole story. He takes Luke back to the beginning, when he first heard the voice. He hadn't even started school yet. In those days, it was friendly, harmless, even fun, encouraging Ben to sneak cookies from the jar on the kitchen shelf, or to tell Leia he'd brushed his teeth when he hadn't, clouding her mind with his powers so she couldn't sense the truth. Over time, the voice became darker, more demanding. Shame fills Ben, but he admits everything he's done under its influence. A lot of it Luke knows about already, without knowing the reason behind Ben's actions. He's used mind-control tricks to steal valuables from innocents. He's spoken badly of Luke to the other padawans, tried to undermine him. He's been violent and he's hurt people, friends as well as strangers, for no reason other than that the voice commanded it. Ben mentions the times he's resisted, too, including how the voice had wanted him to rape Hux. He squirms when he gets to this part, not so much ashamed as deeply embarrassed to be talking so frankly with his uncle. 

When Ben finishes, Luke says nothing. Ben waits. The silence stretches. Ben's stomach twists. Finally, just as he thinks he is literally about to die, Luke says, “You are very strong, Ben.” 

Ben stifles a sigh. “I know. You tell me all the time. But that's not...”

Luke holds up a hand. “I mean, you're very strong to have resisted this voice as much as you have. I admire you for it. And I'm so sorry you felt you couldn't tell me about this sooner. I've failed you.” 

“No, that's not...” Renewed tears prick at Ben's eyes and fuck he wishes he could get over that. “I'm sorry I can't be a Jedi.” He digs his nails into his palms in a desperate attempt to retain some control. 

“We don't need to rule that out right away.” 

“But I broke the Code. And I'm...I'm in love.” Ben steels himself for Luke to say he can't be, that Ben doesn't even know Hux, but Luke smiles. 

“Believe it or not, I've been in love once or twice in my life. And the Code isn't everything.” Who are you, Ben thinks, and where is Luke? “You remind me of my father, Ben.” Ben frowns. Words like that, midnight murmurings about Ben being the most powerful being since Darth Vader, are the territory of the voice. “He felt everything so much,” Luke goes on. “So deeply. He would have burned down the galaxy for the people he cared about. He did.” 

Frowning, Ben wonders if Luke misunderstood, if he didn't explain things as well as he hoped. He opens his mouth to try again. Luke gets there first. “We won't do that,” he says. “But we'll put an end to what's bothering you.” He sounds so confident, hope swells in Ben. Maybe it can be done. “After that, it's up to you.” Luke reaches out. Ben all but throws himself into his arms, burying his face in Luke's robes like a toddler.

When Hux and Kattia return, they bring with them a basket full of little brown mushrooms. 

“I need to get water,” Kattia says, as they set the basket on the table beside Luke and Ben. “Would one of you mind helping me at the well?”

“Of course.” Luke stands. Kattia lifts the bucket easily, in a way that makes Ben doubt she actually requires help. The door swings shut behind them. 

Hux is quiet when they've gone, silently picking through the mushrooms. Ben can't stand it, not when they were so close just a few hours ago. Before he can think of anything to say, though, Hux speaks. “My mother likes you.”

“That's good.”

“Good for you. She still keeps that blaster under her bed." He looks up. "How did it go with your master?”

“Uncle. Well, both. He's going to try to help me.” _Try_ is a forbidden word with Luke, but Ben can't be any more optimistic than that. He doesn't dare. 

Hux sighs. “I don't blame your mother for anything. I mean, she destroyed the Empire, but it's not her fault my mother and I ended up...here." He glances around. "My mother told you my father is an aristocrat.” 

“Yes.”

“He's a son of one of the most prominent houses on Arkanis. Not that his fancy titles ever put any bread on our table.” There's a surprising bitterness to Hux's tone. Ben will have to ask him more about that, later. If Hux gives him the chance. “That was why he didn't come with us, though, when the Empire fell. He could have, but he didn't. He couldn't leave that life behind, even though it didn't exist anymore.” 

In a flash of understanding, Ben knows why Hux is worried. “You think I'll do the same thing. That I'll end up, what, leaving you because I can't give up my famous family?”

“Your family, or the Jedi. We didn't really think this through, Ben. That's unusual for me, I can promise you I don't usually get...” He coughs. "Swept away." 

Ben laughs, out of love and out of relief. He didn't expect it to be this easy. “Hux, I can't fucking wait to leave the Jedi.” He'd do it today, this minute, if not for the issue of the voice. “I never wanted to be one in the first place. I was never given a choice.” 

“But I--”

“I've been training since I was eight years old, and I ran out of food on the first day of this trip. That should tell you what a great Jedi I am. And as for my family, they couldn't wait to ship me off.” Leia would like Hux, probably. She would certainly like Kattia, a strong woman who'd overcome great adversity to make the best life she could. “The only way I'm ever seeing them again is with you by my side.” He doesn't know how much more emphatic he can be. Hux nods, thoughtfully, but he doesn't come closer. Instead, he pushes the basket of mushrooms toward Ben. “Take out the ones with white spots,” he instructs. Ben nods. He reaches obediently into the basket. Hux does the same, their hands brushing atop the mushrooms. Hux smiles, a little, and, just like that, Ben can breathe again.

Kattia makes a very good mushroom omelette. Even Luke, who has subsisted primarily on leaves for as long as Ben has known him, says so. 

“I learned in a great kitchen,” Kattia replies. “But that was a very long time ago.” 

“Surely not that long.” Luke smiles, charmingly. 

Kattia flushes. Hux catches Ben's eye across the table. 

“You have a long journey ahead,” Kattia says, getting up. “Let me prepare you something to take with you.” She goes over to the counter. Luke follows, bringing his plate like a courteous guest, and stands beside her. He says something, quietly, and she laughs. For a moment, Ben remembers what Luke said about not being inexperienced with love. Ben doesn't remember him ever having a girlfriend or a boyfriend, even before he left for the Jedi temple. Anyway, at his age, he must be long past all that. Right? 

“Come with me for a minute,” Hux says. Ben spears the last morsel of omelette from his plate and follows Hux. 

In his bedroom, Hux grabs Ben. When he kisses him, it's sweet, and when Hux pulls away, Ben's lips try to follow him, entirely of their own accord. “Here.” Hux takes one of the little model ships from his shelf. He lifts Ben's hand and presses the ship into it. “I want you to borrow it.” 

“Okay.” Ben would agree to anything, if it means Hux isn't demanding they never see each other again.

“It's my favourite. So you'd better bring it back in one piece. As soon as possible, please.” 

“I will.” It's the most sincere promise Ben has ever made.

Hux nods, as if he's satisfied with that. Ben hesitates. He wants to kiss Hux again, wants that more than anything, but he's not sure. “Hux...” He begins. Hux cuts him off with his tongue. 

This time, when Hux pulls back, he stays close, resting his head against Ben's. “There are no guarantees in life.” 

“Ah, no. There aren't.”

“But I do quite love you.” 

Ben's heart threatens to leap from his chest. “Me, too,” he says, although the words don't come close to explaining how he really feels. He tries to make up for it with actions, lifting Hux off the ground and kissing him over and over again until Luke calls for him. 

***

Commandant Brendol Hux receives the message after a long day at work. The cadets are getting weaker every year, it seems, and this year's class is the poorest yet. No drive, no focus, no discipline. It's disheartening. 

“There's a message from Kattia,” Maratelle calls from the living room, as he hangs up his coat in the front closet. He goes directly to the sideboard and pours a generous serving of brandy. 

“Oh, yes? What does she say?” He's not particularly interested. He loved her, once, extremely passionately, but that passion belongs to a younger man who no longer exists. Her rare messages are no source of excitement for him. 

“I didn't watch it.” 

Brendol takes the datapad and opens his message folder. Kattia has sent a holo of their son. He's as effeminate as always, Brendol notes, with his long ginger hair and his paper-thin body. If she'd left him here, if she'd let Brendol raise the boy, he would have turned out differently. The man Armitage is draped over is robust, however, broad and muscular although his face is marred with dark moles and outsized ears. He is young. They're both young. Armitage is only twenty-five, but Brendol assumes they know what they're doing. They're smiling, at any rate. 

A holorecorded message from Kattia accompanies the image. She's still pretty, despite her advancing years, and still cursed with that terribly lower-class accent he'd once found so charming. Around her neck is a necklace shaped like a flower. He gave that to her, close to thirty years ago. “I thought you would like to know,” Kattia says, on the holo, “Misha is married. His husband is a good man. Strong, dependable. Everything you should want for our boy. His name is Ben. They're planning on travelling for a while before they settle down.” That's good, Brendol supposes. Armitage was always bright. He deserves better than to be stuck in the backwater where Kattia ended up. “I'll let you know when you're a grandfather.” Brendol raises an eyebrow. He's heard there are ways to make that happen out in the New Republic, but he doesn't want to think about it. Cloning is bad enough. “Please give my good wishes to Maratelle.” The message ends.

Brendol looks at the wedding holo again. He doesn't know his son. They're strangers, although the boy bears both Brendol's father's first name and his prestigious family surname. Still, seeing Armitage so obviously happy strikes a chord deep in Brendol. It softens, a little, something that's been very hard for many years. 

“I'm going to send Armitage some credits,” he calls to Maratelle. It's not easy to get money into the New Republic from here, but Brendol knows it can be done. He's done it before. “As a wedding gift.” 

“Lovely,” Maratelle replies, distracted. “Pass on my congratulations.” 

“And I'll send something for Kattia,” he adds, more quietly. Maratelle doesn't care. She knows who Kattia is, and who she is, and that she won. It was never a fight. Still, Brendol lingers on the holo.

He could have stopped her from going, all those years ago. He could have forbidden it, taken the child, locked her up. But he'd loved her far too much to do any of that. He wonders, just for a moment, what it would have been like if he'd gone with them, as Kattia had wanted. He would have been there. He would have stood with his only son on the wedding dais, as was Arkanian custom. He would have presented the pendant bearing their family crest to Armitage's husband, to this “Ben” with the big ears and the boy's face, and he would have added Ben's name to their house scroll. 

Perhaps. Or perhaps life in the New Republic would have swept all that away. Perhaps Armitage wouldn't know anything—wouldn't want to know anything—about his heritage and his past, even if he'd grown up with a father. 

These thoughts are foolish and sentimental. Brendol closes the message and sips his brandy. He'll send the money, because that is his duty, but he will think no more about Armitage or Ben or Kattia or the road not taken. Instead, he opens a file of cadet essays on “The Battle of Endor: Historical Perspectives and Applicable Lessons,” which will no doubt be excruciating, and waits for the droid to bring him dinner.


End file.
